Sha'en Directions
by Threshie
Summary: Matt, a youth with a passion for languages, finds himself recruited to translate directions in an ancient language. The only catch? The directions are written on Near--every inch of him from the neck-down. Eventual MxMxN. Chapter 2's here!
1. Sought

**Sha'en Directions**

**Chapter 1 – Sought**

By Threshie

AN: Death Note and its cast of interesting characters belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, not me. This is a work of fanfiction.

This story is an Alternate Universe medieval-era fantasy. For fair warning, there will be yaoi—malexmale romance. As for pairings...anything can happen, I suppose... ;)

This fic has been months in the making; I've been plotting on it and even drawing illustrations for it for ages now, so I'm very excited to be presenting it in written form at last for you to read.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

* * *

Matt would never forget the day that they arrived.

A shining silver carriage, drawn by pale, dappled horses and escorted by yet more, drew into town just as he was arriving home. Talne was a tiny mountain village; no one high-born enough to travel in such a carriage should have had any reason to come there. No, the redheaded youth told himself, this precession must have been just passing through. There was writing on the side...he paused, squinting to glimpse what it read, and realized that the white calligraphy was written in Ximmelian, the language of a kingdom far to the north.

_'Home is where I am traveling,' _the writing said in graceful, exotic curves. Matt had only ever seen Ximmelian written in the dusty books he bought off of traveling traders; to see it in actual use sent a bit of a thrill through him.

He tried not to look as happy about seeing the writing as he really was. It was well-known amongst the villagers that Matt Jeevas, the innkeeper's son, was obsessed with languages, and he was frequently mocked for spending his time in the company of dusty old books rather than pursuing a "useful" hobby, such as learning a trade that could earn him money. Really, even his own father didn't see any use in his linguistic talents; if not for the fact that the man planned to pass the inn business on to Matt when he died, he would likely have forced his son to make more use of his time before this.

All of this was in the back of his mind as the redhead watched the carriage procession draw closer and closer to the center of town. When it stopped, the lead rider—a tall, muscular man with short flaxen hear and pale blue eyes like bits of ice—dismounted his horse and tossed the reins to the ground. Ignoring the growing crowd of villagers watching and whispering about the obviously-rich visitors, the blonde man came to the small door on the side of the carriage and knocked softly once, twice.

A tiny slitted window slid open, and the man leaned close, murmuring to whoever dwelt inside with his head bowed in respect. After a moment, he nodded and headed for the front of the procession again; the tiny window, Matt observed curiously, did not close. He got the distinct feeling that the inhabitant of the carriage was as curious about him and the other villagers as they were about him.

_I wonder what kind of person our visitor is...obviously a rich one, a noble probably. _In that case, they would probably not risk mingling with common folk such as Matt. The carriage's beautiful script was more interesting to the redhead than whoever was traveling in it, really.

_Still, if I linger too long, father might be angry at me for not being in the inn when the visitors come inside. I had best get back._ He crept past the still-murmuring throng of people, making a beeline for his father's business. Nobody seemed to notice or care that he was leaving—they probably hadn't even noticed when he had arrived. If not for his fiery ponytail and tendency toward wearing stripes, Matt doubted most of the village would even recognize him on sight, with how much time he spent indoors with his books and how very little he spent out socializing.

_Oh, well. I love languages more than people anyway. _Languages were beautiful, and intricate, and graceful—all things most people were not.

* * *

Hours passed, but no new visitors came to the inn.

Nobles hated sleeping on the ground, Matt knew this from the number of them that had stayed at the inn over the years even if only just passing through for one night. Nobles seemed to be fragile creatures, unaccustomed to the discomforts of everyday life that normal folk endured every day. It had been something of a source of amusement shared between Matt and his father for years, since every spoiled noble that happened to wander through their town inevitably stayed at Mr. Jeevas' very humble inn rather than camp in their own splendid tents or carriage seats.

Matt crawled out of bed early the next morning, curiosity overwhelming his grogginess. Had the nobles passed on without spending the night after all? He had to know.

Well, and getting one last glimpse of the lovely calligraphy on the carriage might have played _some_ role in his plan...

The sight of the empty courtyard made his face fall. _So they took one look at our tiny village and decided it wasn't even fit to sleep in,_ he thought drolly, disappointed. _Typical nobles. I don't care about them, though—it would've been interesting to see if they had any books in Ximmelian they might have traded to me. _He didn't have a Ximmelian book in his library yet, and he needed some way to practice reading the language.

"...The inn? I was told that he was a resident here, my lady." The voice drifted to his ears from across the empty courtyard; few people were awake this early to do anything but put on the porridge, so Matt turned curiously to see who it was.

The tall blonde man from the day before was speaking with a curvaceous lady Matt recognized to be the baker's wife. _Mrs...Kenwood, was it?_ Now that he wasn't distracted by the carriage, he saw that the man was dressed in intricately-etched silver armor, large pauldrins on his shoulders, and an impressively-sized longsword slung across his back. Having just observed how well-armored the visitor was, Matt was just thinking that he was sure glad these people had no business with him when Mrs. Kenwood murmured in a bored tone, "His father _owns_ the inn, sir. They dwell in the upstairs portion of the building."

"Thank you very much," the blonde man said very seriously, icy eyes turning immediately toward the inn. "We have journeyed a very long way to find Matt Jeevas."

_What could these people want with_ me_?_ Matt wondered, ducking behind the nearest building corner so as not to be spotted. _Surely I haven't managed to make enemies of such high-born people...without even knowing it?_ Having a fully-outfitted knight searching the town for him was intimidating, but Matt was too intelligent to believe such a story. _I've never been outside of Talne—I've never even met anyone from Ximmel. More importantly, I don't do many things to anger people—what quarrel could they possibly have with me?_

He was reasonably sure that he wasn't being hunted by them; with such a well-armed procession, if they had ill intentions likely they would have demanded outright that Matt be given to them when they'd arrived. There was no reason to wait overnight in that case, either...the real question was, what _did_ they want with him of all people?

_Only one way to find out._

Taking a deep breath, Matt stepped out from behind the building and followed the blonde man as he headed for the inn. Mrs. Kenwood must have left as soon as the visitor ended their conversation, because she was nowhere to be seen now.

"Sir?" He called, trying his hardest not to sound as meek as he felt in the presence of such a lion-like man. When the visitor turned to stare at him icy-eyed again, Matt shrank a little under the gaze. "I-I'm...Matt Jeevas. I'm sorry, I overheard that you...want to find me?"

"...You?" The knight looked him skeptically up and down, raising one thick blonde brow. "You're just a boy! The Matt Jeevas I've been told of is a great scholar—master of dozens of languages, surely you cannot be him. Don't jest with me, boy, I have serious matters to attend to." With a swish of his cloak, he resumed stalking toward the inn. Behind him, Matt was feeling lightheaded.

_They came here because I know many languages! Can that mean...they need me?_

"I swear to you that I am!" He jogged to catch up to the man, curiosity growing by the second, and added, "Please tell me, sir, do you need the services of a linguist? Is that what this's about?"

The man paused again, sighing.

"Yes, Matt Jeevas I am told can read the ancient writings of Sha'en—a language that slipped out of spoken use hundreds of years past. Can you truly mean to tell me that a boy such as you has mastered an ancient tongue the likes of that one?"

"Sha'en, Mashe'nu, Triell, and more yet," Matt said frankly. "Don't judge me by my age—I promise you, I _can_ translate this Sha'en document, no matter what it is. So long as the text is still legible, anyway..." He scratched his head, glancing down at the toes of his boots. _I wonder how I can get him to believe me? I suppose if father verified that I am myself, he'll be more likely to believe it...except, father might say I am not Matt Jeevas, on the off chance that these people mean me harm. I don't think they do, though...hmm._

A bit taken aback by the list of arcane tongues, the blonde man was silent for a moment...and then he nodded grimly.

"I will hold you to your word, Matt Jeevas," he said, placing a heavy gauntleted hand on the redhead's shoulder. "Come with me."

* * *

The carriage, and the entire procession it turned out, had spent the night outside of the village and planned to a second time, guarded by six more armor-clad knights. The sun had just risen, casting long shadows toward the west, when Matt first set foot into their camp. The knights turned sharply at the sound of even his light footsteps, but upon sighting the blonde man who had brought him here, they promptly turned back to standing at attention.

"You are from Ximmel, right?" Matt asked softly, glancing around the camp. He was surprised to see that a woman traveled with them; her hair was as flaxen as that of the head knight, but her eyes were a much softer, less shocking shade of blue, and she was clad in armor as much as any of the men, a polearm laid on the ground beside her where she sat near the fire at the center of the camp. She eyed Matt grimly as he approached the carriage, but the head knight nodded at him as if to say, 'he is trustworthy', and she made no move to stop him.

"We are indeed from Ximmel," the man said, pausing at the carriage door. He tapped it lightly once, twice, then turned back to Matt with a frown. "You must understand something right now. You cannot tell anyone about what you see here...and if you so much as lay a finger upon our charge, no one here will hesitate to do away with you. This is a very serious request for your help, so I give you one last chance to admit that you are jesting me about being the real Matt Jeevas and to escape this foolish prank unharmed. What do you have to say for yourself?"

_He still doesn't believe me,_ Matt thought, a bit irked. _Well, I _am_ the real Matt Jeevas, so I've got nothing to fear by saying so. I'll prove to him that I'm being honest!_

"Yes," he said firmly, "I am Matt Jeevas. The real one. I swear it."

The blonde man stared at him icily for a long, drawn-out moment before saying heavily, "Very well. Follow me." Turning, he slid the small door of the carriage open and gestured for Matt to enter. It was very dim inside...the contrast to the brightness outside made it impossible to tell who or what was in there. For a split second, Matt considered turning back and forgetting this whole thing. He could say he _had_ been lying about being Matt Jeevas and leave now without having anything to do with these people...

_...But then I might have missed my one chance to see Sha'en writing, _real_ Sha'en writing. Not just a book example, but an actual document!_ That cinched it—for a linguist, he just couldn't pass this up. Steeling himself for whatever might face him, the redhead stepped into the darkness...

--End Chapter 1

* * *

AN: Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Sha'en Directions"! I hope you're enjoying my AU world so far; this is the first fantasy I've written with the Death Note cast, and I'm having fun with it. ^^

I love reviews, be they critiques or one-liners or whatever you like, so please do leave a review if you're so inclined!

Before you take off, feel free to read the Akugi section. Akugis are outtake-style parodies of various lines/scenes in the chapter they belong to. They are intended to be funny, but I have a kind of cheesy sense of humor, so...yeah, be forewarned. XD; Er, enjoy? LOL.

'Til next chapter!

-Threshie

* * *

_**Sha'en Directions**_ **Akugi! Volume 1**

Akugi #1

Narrator: There was writing on the side...he paused, squinting to glimpse what it read, and realized that the white calligraphy was written in Ximmelian, the language of a kingdom far to the north.

Writing: _'We brake for no one—especially commoners.'_

Akugi #2

Blonde Man: "...The inn? I was told that he was a resident here, my lady."

Wedy: "He may as well be a visitor, for how many friends he has."

Matt: _Ouch..._

Akugi #3

Blonde Man: "You're just a boy! The Matt Jeevas I've been told of is a great scholar—master of dozens of languages, surely you cannot be him."

Matt: (Sweatdrop) "So whoever told you about me mentioned the languages thing but failed to mention that I'm only 16, huh? What a rip—that's half my claim to fame!"

Blonde Man: "..."

Akugi #4

Blonde Man: "You must understand something right now. You cannot tell anyone about what you see here...and if you so much as lay a finger upon our charge, no one here will hesitate to do away with you."

Matt: "Ooh...it's a girl, isn't it! She's a princess, right? A beautiful princess? Am I right?"

Blonde Man: (Sweatdrop) "..Just get in the carriage so the chapter can end."


	2. The Document

**Sha'en Directions**

**Chapter 2 – The Document**

By Threshie

AN: Death Note and its cast of interesting characters belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, not me. This is a work of fanfiction.

* * *

The knight closed the door behind them, but the inside of the carriage was softly lit by round glass lanterns that hung in each corner. It was surprisingly spacious inside...and equally surprising was the complete lack of seats. Matt glanced around quickly, searching for the inhabitant. His eyes caught a glimpse of white...turning, he stared at the small form that sat on the floor on the far end of the carriage, heavily embroidered purple robes spreading all around them.

Save for the robes, which were too voluminous to be missed, the first thing that grabbed his attention was that this person's hair was white. Not blonde, not silver, but pure snowy white...it was short, but thick, and waved gently out in all directions, covering the back of its owner's neck.

"I present Matt Jeevas, or so he claims," the blonde man said formally, shooting Matt one last skeptical glance. "He says that he does indeed read Sha'en."

"I see..." The soft, light voice that came from the white-haired person was neither masculine nor feminine; if anything, it had the androgyny of a child. Matt blinked, taken aback yet again. _I thought with white hair like that, surely this person must be elderly...but they sound young instead!_ They also sounded entirely disinterested; the words were flat and lifeless, no excitement or even the pride that accompanied most nobles' speech.

The knight's odd master slowly raised their left hand, a long, wide robe sleeve echoing the motion by draping through the air. The heavy cloth slid down to reveal a very small hand, with delicate fingers and a slender wrist...but the shape of the hand barely caught Matt's attention. He was far more interested in the slight glimmer that seemed to dance across the skin there...

"Come here," the white-haired person murmured dully; the voice was almost mesmerizing in its smooth, cool way. Matt stepped forward, wondering if it would be all right to ask where his new employer was born, that their skin should glimmer and their hair should be white...but when he got closer, he only just stopped short of gasping out loud. The shimmer on the hand, upon closer inspection, was in a pattern...letters. They were faint and fleeting, as if only half there, but the words were unmistakable.

_It's Sha'en!_ Matt leaned forward, scanning the text rapidly. _I assumed that it would be a document I would be translating, but...this person _is_ the document...?_

"Can you read it?" The almost-bored tone tugged at him, drawing him back to the task at hand. _Let's see, here..._ He read the text to himself, then shook his head. _'Turn 'round and 'round until you lose sight...of the sun'? That can't be right...oh! I see, since I'm reading only the middle, it doesn't _really_ say that..._

"Sha'en bases the context of each line on what the line before it says," he explained, hoping that this wouldn't be taken as a sign of failure, "And reading here, I'm starting in the middle. Um...w-what I'm saying is that I need to see the beginning to read it as anything that makes sense." _Does it go up their arm? If this is a woman, the last thing I want to do is to suggest that she remove any clothing! _It was very difficult to tell how kind of reaction such a nonchalant person would have to anything that he said...so he decided to play it safe and say as little as possible.

There was a long moment of silence; Matt stood there hoping nobody else could hear his heart pounding as loudly as it sounded to him. These people seemed to be all business—no sense of humor, and in something of a hurry. Now that he'd laid eyes on Sha'en, actual Sha'en in apparently perfect form, he would have hated to see this opportunity to translate it slip away because the language's mechanics made it impossible to translate a sentence in the middle of a long document without knowing the one before it.

It was especially intriguing that it was written onto the white-haired noble, too—because he had researched the language for years on his own and there weren't supposed to be any scribes left alive who had mastered all of the 47 letters, or anywhere near enough to write what he'd just seen, for that matter.

Lowering their hand, the noble turned and peered up at Matt, white hair curling across one slim shoulder. A young, pale face with delicate features and large, dark eyes told the redhead that this was definitely no elder that he was seeing. Instinct told him that the person was male...but when he looked at their face he honestly couldn't see why he would assume male any more than female. He'd seen women who weren't nearly as pretty as this before...

"I see," the noble said again, face betraying no more emotion than their voice.

"Prince Near, I suspect that this boy is not the real Matt Jeevas," the blonde man spoke up from the door, frowning at Matt. "He came to me, and no one else has verified him to be who he claims to be yet." Matt ignored the irritating repeated suspicion that he was lying about his identity; he was too busy being relieved to finally have a gender to attach to his new potential employer. _So I was right, he _is_ a boy. Just a very...delicate one._

"I am a bit surprised that he did not bring books with him," the prince admitted, though he didn't sound particularly surprised. To Matt, he added, "I was told that Matt Jeevas is the best scholar of Sha'en available in these times, but surely even you have not memorized the language enough to forsake reference books entirely?"

"Actually," Matt said sheepishly, "Yes, I have. I don't do much except for studying...to be honest." _Well, there goes any impression I could have made that I'm useful at anything except for words. _"If you show me the beginning of the text, I can read it out for you right here," he added confidently, crossing his arms. "If it's not too bold to ask...how did you come to have Sha'en written onto your hand?"

"I don't know," Near said matter-of-factly, standing in one smooth motion. He was even smaller than Matt would have guessed by seeing him sitting on the floor; the robes must have given some added impression of size, because the top of his head barely came to Matt's chin when he stood. He looked up at the redhead with a sharp intelligence shining in his eyes, adding softly, "I will show you, then."

Matt expected him to roll up his sleeve...so when both hands went to his throat, the redhead thought for an alarming second that the collar that went up to his chin was choking him. Calmly, Near moved his hands, though, and it was soon evident that he had been undoing clasps at the back of the collar. He folded it down to reveal yet more faint, silvery Sha'en on his neck...and as he was lowering his arms, Matt realized that his right hand was as covered in writing as the left.

"Is this writing all over you?" He asked, before he could think to shut his mouth. He didn't have the chance to apologize for such a blunt question, though, because Near had already turned his back to him.

"Most of me," the white-haired boy said bluntly in return, moving the hair away from the back of his neck with one hand. "Here...I believe the beginning is at the back of my neck."

Leaning to look, Matt decided that this boy must not spend much time outdoors; his neck and hands were just as pale as his face, which was only a few shades darker than his ivory hair. The text was faint, as it had been on Near's hand...but it made a lot more sense when he read it this time.

"'Borne of Sha'en, inscribed in Sha'en, so shall the soul upon whom these words reside return to rule by birthright...Sha'en,'" he read aloud, blinking. _Is he _from_ Sha'en? It's a lost kingdom, no one even knows where it is anymore, but...it would explain how odd-looking he is if he's from a lost kingdom, wouldn't it? It doesn't explain how somebody so young could be from there, though, since the kingdom fell into legend hundreds of years ago...and he doesn't know how to read it, himself, either... How can this be?_

Near turned to face him abruptly, eyes wide and the first glimpse of a genuine expression on his face—surprise.

"You _can_ read it," he said, a bit curiously. "Without even a book, you can read it. Are you certain that you aren't inventing words to impress Sir Rester and I?"

Matt sighed. _Again with this false identity assumption—does everyone lie about that in Ximmel?_ At the same time, he observed that the big blonde knight's name was apparently Sir Rester.

"I can go get my book and show you which words are where if you want verification," he told Near pointedly, "But if you don't trust me to my word, then having me translate a language that you can't understand yourself isn't going to work. I _am_ Matt Jeevas—ask my father if you don't believe me, he's the innkeeper here."

Refastening his collar, Near replied coolly, "That won't be necessary—after such a reply, I believe that you are who you say you are. Only a fool would believe it with what little proof we were presented before, though, don't you agree?" As soon as he had finished with the collar, the white-haired boy sat back down on the floor in a swish of robes, one small hand coming up to twist a lock of hair around his fingertips.

_I guess when I think of it from their point of view..._

"You're right," Matt said sheepishly, smiling a bit even though he was more nervous than amused, "I-I'm sorry—I don't meet many people that I don't know, and Talne is small, so I'm used to people trusting each other..."

"No matter," Near said dully, still toying with the same lock of hair as before. "We require your services to translate and transcribe the Sha'en; price is no object. Do you agree to assist us?"

Matt wondered vaguely how much money a prince and his royal entourage would consider "fair" to pay for translating a dead language that only he could read, but didn't dwell on it—this was the chance of a lifetime to see more Sha'en writing than he'd even known existed before today. He would've done it for free if they had asked him to, at this point.

"Of course I do!" He said quickly, "I'd be honored to work for you, Prince."

"Wonderful." Near sounded less than thrilled that they'd found and enlisted the rumored Matt Jeevas at last, but the redhead was beginning to realize that he was probably always like this. "Sir Rester, please escort him back to the village. We will start tomorrow; please come as early as you can, Matt." He said all of this without turning around or looking up.

Matt nodded, feeling a strange little twinge of happiness at hearing Near use his name for the first time. The prince probably wasn't the first noble to call Matt by name, for word of his Sha'en studies to reach the Ximmelian court, but it was definitely the first time anyone of high blood had used his name to him directly.

"All right. I'll be here at dawn, then," he said, sounding much more confident than he felt. _I only read the first sentence...can I really do this? My book covered the basics of the language, but not _all _of it since the meanings change depending on the curves and the order of the words, and the order of the sentences, and..._ He followed Sir Rester out of the carriage and back to the village, mind racing with questions and insecurities.

Near was like no one he had even met before...how could someone have a language written onto his body and not know how it had gotten there? How could he have it written there at all? What was it written with—surely not ink? Was it tattooed on? No, tattoos wouldn't have that subtle, silvery shimmer on the surface when he moved...

_I'll think about it tomorrow,_ he decided. _If I sit thinking about all of this today, I'll only wonder endlessly, and if I think about it tonight, I won't sleep, thus I won't be able to get back to their camp at dawn, so...tomorrow._

Maybe he could ask Near some of the questions, too; the white-haired boy wasn't particularly enthused by anything he said, but didn't seem opposed to Matt speaking to him either, unlike many of the nobles who had visited Talne in the past. Associating with common folk didn't seem to even occur to Near—he'd spoken to Matt in the exact same tone as he had to Sir Rester. The droll, flat way that he spoke made Matt curious why he was here if he didn't care about the situation, too...but he shoved that question away with the others, trying to push all of this from his mind for the moment.

_Tomorrow, _he promised himself.

One thing was for certain—tomorrow was bound to be interesting.

--End Chapter 2

* * *

AN: And so, we have Near! I was surprised how many people assumed that Rester was Mello last chapter... XD I guess blue eyed and blonde makes people assume "Mello" pretty quick...but he's Rester, one of Near's honor guard in this fic. :)

Review? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this incarnation of Near.

-Threshie

* * *

_**Sha'en Directions**_ **Akugi! Volume 2**

Akugi #5

Matt: (Examines Near's hand)

Narrator: The almost-bored tone tugged at him, drawing him back to the task at hand.

Near: (Smirk) "Excellent pun, Mr. Narrator."

Narrator: ... (Blush)

Akugi #6

Narrator: Instinct told him that the person was male...but when he looked at their face he honestly couldn't see why he would assume male any more than female.

Near: "Then don't look at my face, and it will be obvious."

Matt: (Blush) "Uh..."

Near: (Points at chest)

Matt: "OHH..." _; (Sweatdrops, as 'chest' wasn't the first place he'd THOUGHT Near meant to look at...)

Akugi #7

Narrator: Matt expected him to roll up his sleeve...so when both hands went to his throat, the redhead thought for an alarming second that the collar that went up to his chin was choking him.

Matt: "!!!" (Heimlich)

Near: "!!!" (Struggle)

Rester: "!!!" (Slays Matt)

Matt: x_x "I'm g...glad this is only a h-harmless...outtake..."

Akugi #8

Matt: _I'll think about it tomorrow._ (Tomorrow comes) _I'll think about it tomorrow._ (The next day comes) _I'll think about it tomorrow._ (Is a procrastinator)


End file.
